Roll for Optimism
by Blue Oatmeal
Summary: While exploring the Soul Sanctum, Quirrel receives an unexpected blast from the past and fails his optimism check. Lemm does not approve of his chosen coping method.
1. Curiosity Killed the Quirrel

"You've never been up here?" Quirrel asked, nudging the elevator's lever.

"Of course not," Lemm crossed his arms. "Too many guards. Besides, something about this building is especially unsettling." He glanced over his shoulder at the dark hall behind them. "And then there's the reputation…"

Quirrel left the elevator and stepped towards an ornate archway. "I know it's called the Soul Sanctum, but I'm afraid I can't remember much else." He glanced back as he wandered into the room. "What have you learned about it?"

Lemm looked around warily. "I don't know how much is true, mind you. But supposedly there were some bugs doing experiments with SOUL. Kinda cult-ish. They might have been trying to 'ascend to a higher plane of existence' or something. Maybe they were trying to be gods." He let Quirrel help him up some platforms and up through a hole to the next floor. "Whatever it was, it was very grandiose and abstract, if the remaining records are any indication. Many saw it as nothing more than a bunch of wacky religious zealots. Some said they actually accomplished something unnatural."

"Gorgeous," Quirrel breathed, staring up at an ornate window. He tilted his head as he processed Lemm's words. "They don't sound too bad, all things considered." He peered down the hall before deciding to board the next elevator. "Certainly not the worst Hallownest has to offer," he muttered.

They'd agreed to survey the place before raiding it. Lemm marveled at the expansive rooms filled with odd trinkets and machinery, while Quirrel poked his head into every new doorway, curious to see where they led.

The conspicuously blank corridor was irresistible.

"Be careful," Lemm warned. "It's dark in there."

"I don't think there's anything in here," Quirrel mused. He cautiously stalked down the hall. "I think our friend has been here," he said, pointing with his nail to a more recently disturbed pile of rocks. "I bet they knocked this hole in the wall. From… the other side, it looks like." He ducked through the rough opening and clambered down the ledge beyond.

"Quirrel!" Lemm protested. "You can't just—!"

He heard a soft thud, followed by Quirrel's echoing voice from below. "Ah. It _is_ dark. We should have brought a lantern. I can barely see down here! It's almost as bad as Deepnest."

"That's one place I'm _not_ following you into," Lemm grumbled. He kneeled at the ledge and leaned out, trying to get a good look with what little light there was. "Well? Anything interesting?"

"The floor isn't flat," Quirrel called. He took a few steps, noting the severe unevenness of the ground. He scuffed his foot on the floor. "I think…" He bent down and felt the surface with his hand. "Ah. It appears I've landed on a pile of corpses."

"Lucky you," Lemm deadpanned. "Imagine that, a bunch of dead bodies just lying about. What a novel sight."

Quirrel's snicker echoed up from the floor. "See if you can find a light, would you? I think this room is bigger than I thought. You'd best stay up there for now, unless you fancy a steep climb back up."

"Yeah, no thanks," Lemm said. "I'll try and snatch one of the lumafly lanterns we passed earlier. I'll be back in a minute."

Quirrel saw his silhouette disappear from above, and heard his footsteps retreat towards the open room they'd previously been perusing.

He held his arms out from his sides for balance as he walked further. It certainly was a large pile. Perhaps the Soul Sanctum had gotten up to more malevolent activities than he'd thought. If he could just find the actual floor, or a wall, he could get a better idea of the room's size.

It took a while to reach a wall, and all the way over the carpet of carapaces hadn't given way to any kind of normal surface. He felt for the wall he could sense in front of him, and shuddered as his hand dipped into a bug's eyehole. He pulled back, but just as quickly he reached out again, exploring the wall's surface.

It was all corpses. All of it. A face here, folded legs there, cracked chitin and the feathered branches of old wings…

He shook himself, dispelling the chill that had begun to seep through the chinks in his shell. Despite his gradually accelerating heartbeat, his investigation continued. He searched along the wall, grimly identifying the body parts of several of Hallownest's many different species.

His hand brushed over a smooth shell with no obvious imperfections. A thought struck him, and he prodded the corpse with particular interest. The face was intact, still wearing its mask. All the limbs were present and in their proper places. There were no wounds or weak points in the shell.

What had killed this bug? Context clues would point to SOUL magics, but for what purpose? Target practice?

There were hundreds… Maybe even thousands. Just lying where they'd been tossed, discarded, like fruit rinds after a meal.

_Drained,_ his mind supplied. Drained? Of wh—? But there could only be one answer, of course. This was the _Soul_ Sanctum, after all.

Were they volunteers? Members? No. They could never recruit this many willing participants, even with deception. Did they simply pick them up off the streets?

_The city seemed cleaner. Less crowded. Someone had claimed to be helping out the less fortunate, giving them places to live and jobs to work._

What?

"_Don't linger in the city," Monomon instructed lightly, looking away as she rearranged a shelf of vials. "Especially after dark."_

Wait—

_The guard shrugged. "I don't think they'll reach immortality, but they might be able to stop the plague, sure. But while I appreciate your interest, I'm afraid I can't let you inside."_

No, no—

"_They took my daughter!" a bug screeched as security hauled her away. "They took my baby!" She sobbed as she struggled to get free. "You have to stop this! My King, please, you have to believe—!"_

No, no no—

"—_Blessed to have so many volunteers. It's incredible what lengths bugs are willing to go to protect their loved ones. We've already made some very promising advances. They will all be rewarded of course, for their work towards this most noble cause."_

No, stop—

_For what he was told was a simple mugging, the scream had been like nothing he'd ever heard. The most gut clenching, heart stopping, SOUL wrenching…_

Stopstopsto—

_Faces. Shells. Bugs he spoke with. Bugs he passed on the street. A set of triplets, musicians. A noblebug, dripping with gemstones. A maintenance team, tending bravely to the windows at the top of the towers. Shopkeepers. Entertainers. Workers. Nobility. Families._

He recognized them. He knew these bugs. Not all, but far too many. Here, a young guard he'd spoken to briefly, shell now cracked with age and the weight of hundreds of dead bugs. Here, a petty criminal, known throughout the city but tolerated for their charming demeanor, their pretty face now a stepping stone in the floor. Here, the mother whose daughter had disappeared, arms and legs stiffly curled in on themselves.

Quirrel backed up and pressed his fists into his forehead. His mind hadn't been flooded by so many memories since he gave up his—_Monomon's_ mask. He tried to keep hold of them, for even unpleasant memories were precious, but they leaked from his mind like water from a sieve, leaving only impressions and emotions. _Strong_ impressions and emotions.

He recognized so, so many of them. Some from only a greeting while passing by, some from extended friendships, most in ways that he couldn't consciously recall.

They were here.

And they were dead.


	2. Hide In Your Shell

"I found a lamp!" Lemm called, walking down the hall to kneel at the ledge with a large lumafly lantern. "Anything interes…ting? _Gods,_ what in—!? I know you said it was a pile of dead bugs, but _this_—_!_ What in damnation!?"

He dangled the light into the cavernous room. "Quirrel?" He heard his own voice echo. Lemm put the light aside and leaned forward, listening closely.

Nothing. Silent as the grave.

"Quirrel!" he shouted as loud as he could. "Where are you!?" He waited a few seconds, then leaned all the way out and braced for a hard landing.

Once down, Lemm ran unsteadily for the far wall, where his lamp revealed one shell that retained its proper coloring, just a few shades off from the surrounding corpses.

Also, there was a nail strapped to it.

"Quirrel!" He stumbled over some bug's arm with a curse and managed to land next to his friend. "Quirrel, don't you _fucking_ dare—" He shook the spherical shell and pried at the individual plates. "This is no time to be playing dead!"

Instead of opening up, Quirrel curled tighter.

Lemm scowled and forced himself to let go and sit down. He tugged frustratedly at one of his own horns. "Alright, alright," he grumbled. He stared, unsure what to say. "I don't know what's got you so freaked out, but I'm gonna stay here until you unwind. You do that, and we can leave. Okay?"

He frowned into the darkness. "Nothing's moving," he reported. "It's just us in here, nobody else. I've got a light now, not that our surroundings are particularly picturesque."

After a minute of silence, Quirrel uncurled a bit. A hand extended slowly from his shell to turn him over, and he relaxed until he was sitting with his knees hugged to his chest. He stared at the ground for a moment, then turned to his companion. "Lemm. They killed them. They killed them all." He shivered and rubbed his mask between the eyes.

Lemm shuffled closer. "Are you alright? What happened?" He tilted his head. "Who killed who?"

Quirrel played with the knot in his bandana, staring into the dark again. "The Soul Sanctum. They—All of th-these bugs, they didn't die of Infection. I thought—" He shook his head violently. "I'm trying to piece it together, but it's all… fuzzy."

"Are you okay?" Lemm repeated, when it was clear Quirrel had nothing more to add.

He took a deep breath. "We're not in danger," he assured him.

"That's not what I asked," Lemm pointed out. _"Quirrel."_

"Ah?" He met Lemm's gaze. "What, me? Oh. I just… This place triggered a memory, and I got a bit—" He shrugged. "Overwhelmed. It's—my reaction wasn't truly warranted, it was more automatic than anything." He swiftly got to his feet. "A little troubling even; it's no good to suddenly lose one's composure. Even with the Infection gone, these halls remain treacherous." His voice was just a little too tight. He adjusted his bandana. "Shall we go?"

Lemm stared up at him incredulously. _"What?"_ Even in the dim light, he noticed the way Quirrel clutched his nail, and how his free hand twitched as he tried to maintain a calm, self-assured posture. "Sure," he conceded, standing. "We can get out of this pit, but—what kind of memory? Why'd you shut down like that?"

Quirrel jumped onto a ledge and looked back, where Lemm was beginning to climb the wall of bodies, finding easy handholds in the various limbs that curled back into the corpses like hooks. "I… I think I recognized a few… bugs. Here." He kept his eyes up, focusing on the ledge that led into the hallway above them.

Lemm paused about halfway up, turning to look at the face of the corpse he was using as a handhold. "Oh? I can see how that would be… upsetting," he ventured.

Quirrel hummed in acknowledgement as he made it to the top, and lunged into the corridor.

While Lemm pulled himself up the steep wall and over the edge, Quirrel stood further down the hall, frowning at the floor.

Lemm huffed and walked over. "Quirrel," he said softly.

He started at the sound of his name, flinching and turning wide eyes to him. "Yes?"

Lemm walked past him, casually taking his hand and urging him along. "I think that's enough adventuring for today."

Quirrel turned to him to protest, but Lemm cut him off. "Personally, I need a break from this spooky place. Unless you've got your heart set on scouring the _entire_ sanctum _today,"_ he said, glancing over.

Quirrel visibly relaxed. "No. No, it can wait." He tightened his hand around Lemm's.


	3. A Few Things

After a quiet walk down from the city's heights, the two of them sat comfortably in a room behind Lemm's shop. Lemm sat sideways at a cluttered desk, while Quirrel slouched over a small table. Both nursed hot cups of tea.

Lemm broke the silence. "If you don't want to talk about it—"

Quirrel waved his hand and put down the teacup. "No, no. I do. I will." He sighed. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

Lemm gave a small shrug.

Quirrel cleared his throat. "I apparently spent a fair amount of time in the city, back before the Infection. Enough that I could identify… broadly… who those bugs were." He took a deep breath. "Half the population of the City of Tears, Lemm." He looked up from the table. _"Half."_

He nodded slowly, frowning.

"Not volunteers," he clarified. "Nor members of the sect. They were kidnapped. Or coerced. I'd thought that bugs were leaving the city in droves, or succumbing to the plague, but instead they were snatched up and slaughtered. Drained of life. They did _who_ knows what with all the SOUL…" He folded his hands and leaned his head on them. "It's stupid, really. I've seen death before. We all have. I don't know why… The grief, the horror; I just—it was too much. I don't know why."

Lemm listened, silently sipping his tea.

"I froze. My mind _drowned_ in images, half-imagined sensations. What might have happened to them all. I wondered. Was there anything I could have done? How did I miss something this heinous? Was…" He swallowed and his fingers tightened. "Did I know? Did Monomon know? I have to imagine the King knew. Little details I'd noticed; why didn't I piece them together at the time?" His voice dropped to whisper. "I feel guilty. I was _there._ In the city. While it was happening. How could I have missed this? Worse; was I… _involved?"_

He shook his head. "It was too much, all at once. It felt like someone had taken a nail to my head. I wanted to cry. I remember feeling dizzy. From there, it's all hazy." He sighed, quirking a smile. "And then you—heh—"

Lemm looked up sharply.

Quirrel stifled a giggle. "I thought the corpses had come to life and were attacking me!" He snorted and leaned forward. "You realize that, if you want to stop a bug's defense response, shaking them isn't going to help?"

Lemm dipped his head. "I wasn't thinking straight," he mumbled.

Quirrel smirked into his cup. "Yes, well. That makes two of us."

Lemm was quiet for a minute, then tilted his head. "It seems like you've sorted yourself out _logically,_ but I can see you're still worked up. I'm no expert on this sort of thing, but maybe you should try approaching it from a more emotional angle."

Quirrel gave him a puzzled look. "I thought I was?"

He shook his head. "Wrapping it into a neat package of words doesn't resolve what you're feeling. And I can't really counter with my own words anyway because I don't know a thing about the whole situation. You could have been the head of the operation for all I know."

Quirrel looked sick at the very idea, so Lemm quickly backpedaled. "I mean, I don't know about the events in the past—these ones anyway—but I do know _you,_ and you're not the kind of person who could ever tolerate such atrocities if you had even the slightest hint that they might be happening. You're too _nice._ Besides, they were so damn secretive and manipulative that they disappeared half of a _city,_ and people _still_ didn't think of them as anything more than just a weird cult. It wasn't just you."

Lemm put his cup down. "Look, just…" He got up and put his hands on his hips. "Stand up."

Quirrel gave him an inquisitive look but obeyed, stepping away from the table.

Lemm raised his arms, hesitating a moment to give Quirrel a chance to refuse. Then he reached up around his neck and wrapped him in a gentle hug. He had to stretch a bit to make up for the height difference.

Quirrel froze in astonishment, then tentatively hugged Lemm back. He relaxed gradually, finally closing his eyes and giving a deep sigh.

Lemm tightened his hold, and Quirrel responded in kind. They stood quietly for a few long moments. Rain thudded on the walls, not quite muted by the thick stone. Lumafly light flickered softly from a globe on the ceiling.

Quirrel's breath hitched and he leaned into Lemm, who shifted to better prop up the taller bug.

Lemm ran his thumb back and forth along the grooves of Quirrel's shell, frowning to himself as Quirrel shuddered with silent sobs.

This continued for some time. Even after Quirrel had exhausted his tears, neither bug had any pressing desire to disengage.

It was Quirrel who broke the silence. "Thank you," he whispered. "I actually haven't done this in… well..." He paused thoughtfully. "Huh. I can't remember the last time I've been embraced."

Lemm grunted. "Sounds like you haven't been keeping very good company."

He laughed softly. "I suppose I haven't. Not that I kept much company at all, before coming back."

"Hrmm." Lemm tapped absently at Quirrel's shell. "A few things," he began.

"Oh?"

"First of all, you didn't know what they were doing. A few people knew, and you weren't one of them. Otherwise the whole mess was kept extremely secret. It's as simple as that. If you knew, you'd have done something. You didn't know, so you couldn't."

Quirrel hummed noncommittally.

"Second; yes, we've all seen death, but this wasn't from the Infection. Not some mysterious force. Not the ancient shells that line the walls; that's just Hallownest. _This,_ is horrifying. It's murder. A massacre. A slaughter. Intelligent bugs thought out what they were doing, and did it. And they hid it too, so they must have known it was wrong."

"I suppose."

Lemm rolled his eyes. "My point is, you're beating yourself up for being _sensitive,_ Quirrel. Frankly I'd have been more concerned if you'd brushed the whole thing off. Which, by the way, you did _try_ to do."

"Ah. So I did," he admitted sheepishly.

"Yes. So stop doing that. Your horrified reaction was perfectly appropriate. It _is_ horrifying. And sad!"

Quirrel dug his fingers into Lemm's fuzz. "Okay." He turned his head away. _"You_ didn't… fall apart," he said, sounding resentful.

Lemm huffed. _"I_ didn't know any of those bugs. Wasn't even hatched until after this whole dump became a crypt. Besides, I didn't understand what had happened until you explained it. To me it was just another pile of old carapaces. Biggest pile I've seen, I'll admit, but otherwise not terrifically notable."

"That's fair." He took a deep breath and pulled away, smiling sadly. He bent to briefly tap his forehead against Lemm's. "Thank you, Lemm."

He gave his hands a squeeze before letting him go. "Better now?"

Quirrel nodded, readjusting his bandana. He looked up, suddenly serious. "I do still want to go back."

Lemm sputtered. "Wh-now!? _Why!?"_

Quirrel raised his hands. "No, no! Later. Not today. I want know what happened. Truly. There must be some form of records there."

He gave him a wary look. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

He shrugged, almost embarrassed. "It'll be worse not knowing. I just want to see what they were doing." He tangled his fingers together. "And I'm hoping I might get some closure? I just know it'll haunt me otherwise. I _need_ to know."

Lemm crossed his arms. "Alright. Fine. But you have to wait at least three days, and when you do go, I'm coming with you."

Quirrel twitched in surprise. "Oh, you don't have to do that."

"Well, I _am,"_ he said, daring Quirrel to challenge him.

Instead, he grinned and grabbed him in a crushing hug. "Thank you, my friend," he said, voice cracking. "I love you."

"Of course, Quirrel," he mumbled, returning the gesture with a warm smile. "I love you too."


End file.
